


the lord's work

by iihappydaysii



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, Genderswap, M/M, Modern AU, Religious Content, Smut, discovering sexuality, missionary brian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:00:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23496421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iihappydaysii/pseuds/iihappydaysii
Summary: Brian Randall is on his mission in London when he knocks on the door of an attractive gay man named John Grey.
Relationships: (gender swapped Brianna), Lord John Grey/Brian Randall, Lord John Grey/Brianna Randall Fraser MacKenzie, aka - Relationship
Comments: 6
Kudos: 50
Collections: Outlander Bingo Challenge





	the lord's work

**Author's Note:**

> more john/brian because i love writing this dynamic. for the outlander bingo 2020 challenge "missionary" square. 
> 
> Thanks to my wonderful beta, DrivableCar!

They were always sent out in pairs. 

“It’s so you guys can rat each other out. Like Handmaid’s Tale shit,” Phaedra had told him, while painting her toenails neon yellow. 

“It’s for safety, and so we’re more likely to be able to answer any questions someone might have,” Brian had answered. He’d meant it at the time, but now that he was here, beating dreary London streets in black slacks and a pressed white shirt, sweating under a bike helmet, he was starting to feel like his best friend had been right.

Andrew Forbes was deeply obnoxious. He snored loudly in his sleep and always smelled like Shrimp flavored potato chips, which was apparently something people in Brian’s mom’s dreary home country actually ate.

When Forbes came down with a cold, Brian jumped on the chance to go out into the field alone. Sure, it was more intimidating to absorb the curses and slammed doors all alone, but better alone than in bad company, Dad had always said. 

He missed his father. He was part of their religion too, but not nearly devout as his mother’s new husband—his  _ actual  _ birth father, but that was… complicated. And not something he was allowed to talk about to anyone because  _ gossip. _

That morning, he’d knocked on a whole block of doors. Only two people answered. One man called him a stream of names only half of which he actually understood. The other was an old woman who listened skeptically, then told him he was the one going to hell before slamming the door in his face.

In that moment, he’d heard Phaedra’s voice in his head, “How can I go when I’m already there?”

Phaedra ‘struggled with attraction to women’, at least that’s how his stepfather would put it. Phaedra, however, would say that she didn’t struggle at all to be attracted to women because ‘men were gross and smelled like socks—no offense, Brian.’ He would reply ‘none taken’, though if he were honest, he didn’t quite understand her. If he were her, he thought, a girl, he didn’t think he’d find men all that gross. But he was a boy, so… eww? Yes, eww.

Brian took a steadying breath and knocked on the next front door. No answer came for quite a while. He started to turn to head back down the steps when someone came to the door.

Standing before him was a dark-haired man with messy waves, broad shoulders, morning stubble, wrapping up in a burgundy robe. He raised a fine eyebrow above round, brown glasses.

“May I help you?” he said in a proper British accent.

For an inexplicable reason, no words came out when Brian opened his mouth. So he coughed to clear this throat and tried again. His voice cracked slightly as he said, “Hi, um, my name is Brian. I was wondering if I could talk to you about Jesus Christ?”

The man leaned out the door a little, glancing down the street. “Don’t you lads usually come in a set.”

“He’s got a cold.”

The man looked him up and down and said, “All right, let’s hear it.”

Brian’s eyes widened. “Seriously?” Totally not what he was supposed to say. “Sorry, I mean… okay.”

“Want to come in?”

Brian looked over his shoulder. He probably shouldn’t. Not without Forbes, but this was the first opportunity he’d had to speak of and God would protect him, right? If he were doing the Lord’s work. There was a verse about that he thought, something about angel feathers, but he couldn’t recall it at the moment.

“Sit down, kid,” the man said. “Do you want something to drink? Coffee or… can you drink coffee?”

Brian shook his head. 

“Milk, then?”

Brian frowned. 

“Coke? Help me out here,” the man’s voice was gentle, which made his frown melt away.

“Sprite?” Brian asked .”Uh, root beer. Wait, I don’t think you guys have root beer, much, do you? Juice?” He’d have asked for water, but he really hated drinking water. It drove his mom crazy.

“I’ll figure it out,” he said. “I’m John, by the way.”

John stepped out of the living and, a few moments later, returned with his own steaming cup of coffee and an apple juice box. He held the juice box out to Brian.

“It’s not an insult,” he assured Brian. “It’s just all I’ve got. They’re for my daughter’s lunchbox.”

Brian thanked John, then struggled with the wrapped straw, eventually tearing the plastic with his teeth “You’re married?” he asked, stabbing the small straw through the foil.

“No.”

“It must be hard to raise a kid on your own.”

John shrugged. “She’s worth it.”

Brian smiled, then took a sip of his juice. He felt silly slurping from a juice box, but it was more rude not to, right? “What’s her name.”

“Willa.” John took a sip of his coffee, then smiled. It was white and especially distracting. “Go on, then. Convert me.” 

He shifted nervously on John’s comfortable leather sofa, and he did his best to conjure up everything he’d learned and studied. He and Forbes had talked to a few people, but he’d never done it on his own. And he found himself wanting to do it right, wanting to impress this man watching him so intently over the rim of his warm-scented, forbidden drink.

When he was done, Brian asked, “What questions do you have for me?”

“You hungry?” 

Brian’s shoulders slumped. “Not that kind of question.”

“Don’t you find it tedious to discuss our eternal fates on an empty stomach?” John grabbed his cell phone off the side table. “How do you feel about Indian food? There’s an excellent place around the corner.”

“I really… I… I love Indian food.” He’d mostly been eating whatever that week’s host family cooked for them, which was never Indian food.

“Let me get the menu.”

. . .

What the fuck was he doing? Why in God’s name—or Satan’s name—or fucking Zeus’s name—had possessed John Grey to invite some pretty ginger twink into his house at eleven in the morning on a goddamn Tuesday to talk Jesus over take-out chicken tikka masala? 

What was done was done, so he just grabbed the take out menu out of the drawer in the kitchen. When he returned to his living room, he found Brian leaning back on his sofa, slurping the last remnants of Willa’s juice box. 

“Here,” Grey handed him the menu. “See anything you like? I figured we could just get a few different things and share.”

They decided on naan, lamb vindaloo, a vegetable korma and, yes, chicken tikka masala. Grey also planned to have them bring some Sprite so this kid didn’t go through all of Willa’s juice boxes.

Grey was pretty sure Brian had gone through his whole pre-planned speech, but he was curious, for some reason, what else was under there. He seemed young and kind and just… there was something there, like he could see a little gold, a little human, gleaming beneath pre-packaged layers. 

“So, the food will be here in about half an hour, if you have any more in that book you want to tell me about.” 

This time, when Brian talked about his religion, he didn’t talk about it quite so distantly. It shifted from being a cold argument he was trying to make—something he was trying to logic Grey into believing and became something far more real and intimate. He talked about his father, about losing him, and the pain of watching his mother replace him so quickly—and suddenly feeling like an intruder in her life. He said prayer got him through it all, prayer and the support of the church. Grey just thought the kid sounded really fucking strong. 

Eventually, the take out arrived and they continued their discussion over the rich and spicy flavors. When Brian went quiet, seemingly coming to the end of his story.

“That’s all… touching,” Grey said, meaning it. “Really, I like you and I think you seem smart and kind, but there’s a problem when it comes to you and your Book and your religion.”

Brian stiffened in his seat across from Grey and his jaw visibly tightened. “What’s that?”

“I’m gay, Brian,” Grey admitted. “You can lay out the most compelling case imaginable for your God and yet… I’ll still be gay. And if you tell me there’s therapy for that—”

“No, I wasn’t going to say that,” Brian assured him promptly. Then a small, private smile flitted across his face. “In part because my best friend Phaedra said she’d fly out here and drown me in the Thames herself if I ever did, so…”

“She sounds like a good friend.”

Brian pushed out a slow breath, then looked up at Grey with a penetrating, but inexplicable gaze. “She’s… a lesbian, actually. We’ve been friends since first grade and I barely knew what it meant when she came out to me at thirteen.”

“And you stayed friends with her?”

Brian looked down at the holy book beneath his fingers. “I told my parents it was to ‘be a light in her life’, in case she ever chose to return to the fold, but really, I, she’s just my friend and…” his words trailed off and there was something in his eyes that looked pained.

“And what, kid?” Grey prompted gently.

“How did you know? I mean, how did you know that you were gay?”

“It’s different for everyone, of course, but I…” Grey settled back in his chair, the memory floating into his mind. “I kissed a girl once and it felt like when you’d pretend to snog your pillow. And then, I kissed a bloke. A fit bloke who just happened to be captain of the varsity polo team.”

A pink tongue darted out of his soft mouth and licked his lips. “And?”

“It was decidedly not like kissing a pillow.”

Brian’s eyes narrowed and it was easy to see he was thinking and thinking deeply. “I kissed Phaedra once on a dare.”

“And it was good?”

“No, but I don’t know if that counts because she’s my best friend and also a lesbian so that might be why. But then, there was also this girl I took to prom. I mean, she kissed me. I didn’t kiss her.”

“So you liked that?”

“Well…” Brian rubbed at the back of his neck. “It wasn’t bad or anything.”

Grey thought of the warm, strong mouth on that polo player, the firmness of his body against the firmness of Grey’s “You know it…  _ can  _ be good.”

“You think I’m gay?” His voice was so small. 

“I have absolutely no way of knowing that, Brian.”

Brian stood up from the sofa, biting his bottom lip. “Can we… oh my gosh. Maybe we could. I mean, you could…”

“What?” Grey tilted his head.

“You’re like a guy. A… gay guy and you’re objectively handsome, right? So, if you kissed me and it like sucked, then I would know I wasn’t gay and I wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore.”

Grey frowned. It was far more complicated than that. “Kid…”

“Sorry,” his voice cracked and he reached for his bike helmet on the coffee table. “That was crazy. I should not have said that. I should go.” Brian tried to make his way towards the door, but Grey found himself standing in the way without even realizing it.

“Wait.” 

Brian was red-faced trying to step around him, and something inside Grey told him it would be a mistake to let this boy go without…

“Goddammit, just come here.” Grey put a hand on the nape of Brian’s neck and he went slack under the touch. He dipped down the half-inch necessary and kissed him on the mouth.

When he pulled away for air, Brian looked like a frightened rabbit. “Oh no.”

Grey trailed fingers down his soft cheek. “Are you alright?” he asked with a low voice.

“Try that again.” Brian’s voice sounded panicky. “Maybe, maybe it was a fluke.”

Skimming a finger along Brian’s supple bottom lip, Grey leaned in again to taste him and taste him deeply.

“And?” Grey said, breathlessly after a long moment. If Brian even felt half of what Grey was feeling right now…

“Darn it.”

Grey nudged Brian’s nose with his own and whispered, “Maybe third time’s not a charm?”

He kissed him with more force this time and Brian kissed him back, like something snapped loose. All young and excited and eager. Grey gripped the pressed white shirt in his hand and backed him up against the wall, slotting their legs together.

Brian pulled back and gasped, eyes wide. “I really, really should go. Thanks for the, uh, for lunch and the uh,” his eyes traced up and down Grey’s body. “Oh boy. I better go.”

“Brian, wait.” He tried to reach out for the kid, to apologize or something for what had just but happened. But, before he could, he was out the front door.

. . .

Brian spent the following five days practically insane. He tried everything he could to get that kiss off his mind. He prayed, though he never could bring himself to ask forgiveness for something he wasn’t truly sorry for. He read the holy books. Mostly the Bible. Mostly Psalms.

None of it worked. 

Not even forcing himself to talk to Forbes who could go on and on and on about himself. He actually tried to listen, but no matter what he did, it was still there. That  _ kiss _ . The feel of it on his lips. The bright, trembling fire of it roared through him leaving him scorched and breathless. 

He would reach up and skim his lips with his fingers. Remembering.  _ Wanting. _

Brian did try to fight it. Really. Honestly. He did. It didn’t matter. He was still sneaking out of his host family’s window after pretending dinner had left him ill. And, now, here he was, on that same townhouse doorstep, knocking on the door and holding his breath.

When he heard the door start to open, he almost leapt off the steps and into the bushes, but then, he didn’t.

“Brian?” John’s eyes widened as they met Brian’s. His brow furrowed. “What are you doing here?”

_ Ruining my life,  _ Brian thought, but said, “I… thought, you might want some literature.”

John’s lips tipped into a smile that warmed in Brian’s stomach like hot chocolate. “Oscar Wilde? George Eliot? Emily Bronte?” 

Brian could hear his heart beating in his ears, as he reached into his messenger bag. “No, um, these.” He handed three glossy pamphlets to John.

John eyed them skeptically, but then took them in hand. He looked over his shoulder, then back at Brian. “You want to come in? I’m making homemade fettuccine. I had a date, but uh, he cancelled. So there’s more than enough for two.

The rich, buttery scent wafted outside, swirling in his nose and making his mouth water.

“I really just came by… to give you those,” Brian barely managed through his constricted throat.

“I made garlic bread too.”

Garlic bread. Brian  _ loved  _ garlic bread. Phaedra had once called him a whore for it. The memory made him dizzy.

“It smells so good,” Brian said without meaning to, a pathetic whine escaping along with it.

Grinning, John shook his head and stepped away, removing the block of his body from the doorway. “Just get in here.”

One thing Brian had learned was that John was a very good cook. The other thing he realized is that John’s daughter could’ve easily been here. He didn’t know how he’d forgotten about that, but apparently, because of that date he was supposed to be on, Willa was staying the night at her friend’s house.

What would Brian have done if he’d knocked on this door and it had been answered by the daughter of this guy he’d kissed? What would Brian have done if he’d knocked on the door and he’d had to see John on a date  _ with a guy.  _

Brian stabbed the fettuccine on his plate with a little too much force and then shoved it in his mouth.  _ God.  _ It was good. All soft and creamy and buttery. He made an accidental whimper around the tines of the fork.

His eyes flicked up, feeling embarrassed, just to see John with a small, pleased smile on his face. 

“Are you…” John ventured. “… supposed to be out tonight?”

Brian snorted. “No definitely not. I kind of snuck out. I climbed out the window.”

“You are a little rebel, aren’t you?” John replied with a wink that sent a shock down Brian’s spine. 

They talked as they finished up their meal. Brian was happy to hear more about John’s life. About his time in the army, his current work in local government, his daughter, Willa. It was obvious in the way he spoke of her, just how much John loved his daughter and loved being a father. It was also obvious in the amount of drawings and schoolwork he had on his refrigerator.

John just finished up a story about this strange trip he’d taken to Jamaica when they fell into a gentle silence. Not the kind you feel the need to break, but that kind that feels like a warm, heavy blanket. Brian found himself relaxing in the chair, looking across the intimate—meant to be a date table setting—at the blood red liquid in John’s glass. 

“You want to try some?” John slid his glass of red wine closer to Brian.

His insides flipped with cold nerves. “What?” His voice cracked. “Wine? I’m underage.”

“Not in England.”

That was true. The drinking age was eighteen here. He could legally have a sip of wine. However, it wasn’t man’s laws that had the hair on his arms prickling with anxiety. It was God’s laws. The oath he’d made before coming on his mission. One he’d already broken, he reminded himself. Last time he was here. This man had shattered it with his mouth and his tongue.

“It’s against the rules,” Brian squirmed in his chair. “Especially now.”

In his mind, Brian conjured up images from Youth Group of shady individuals skulking in dark corners holding out joints or bottles of beer saying “Come on. Just a drink.” And when you turned them down, they’d pack on the pressure. “What are you? Some kind of loser.”

“Okay,” John said, easily taking another sip of the wine.

He felt silly now. Phaedra had told him as much. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” she said. “Why would someone try  _ that  _ hard to give their own expensive drugs away for  _ free?” _

Brian watched intently as John’s soft lips parted from the glass, leaving behind a damp curve.

“But I  _ am _ curious,” Brian said, feeling bold and stupid and reckless.

John handed him the glass. Brian sniffed it. It smelled less sweet than he’d expected and made his throat ache before he’d even tasted it in the same anticipatory way he felt before popping a Warhead on his tongue. He drew in a deep breath, then poured some of the liquid into his mouth, swallowing it down.

It tasted worse than it smelled and it hadn’t smelled that great. Brian wrinkled up his nose. “It’s kind of gross.”

Grey laughed softly, then took back the glass, his fingers gliding gently over Brian’s. “It’s an acquired taste.”

The man wiped at his lips with the cloth napkin, his skin glowing and dancing in the candlelight. It was supposed to be another man here instead of Brian, watching John’s beautiful skin under the warm glow. The thought sent a rolling sweep of jealousy through every inch of him.

“Can we kiss again?” Brian blurted, surprising himself.

“What?” Grey blinked. 

_ Oh shoot.  _ What was he doing? He should not have said that. What was wrong with him? It’s like he lost all sense of reason whenever he was in a room with this man. But maybe he was sick of reason… 

“It felt really good last time,” Brian continued. “I can’t stop thinking about it. About  _ you _ .”

John’s head tilted and he gave Brian a sad smile. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Right. Sorry.” Brian shook his head, heat warming his cheeks. What had he been thinking? “You’re super hot and I’m awkward and freckly and I never had wine before and you’re like all sophisticated.” What would a guy like this—a man of the world—even want with a naive, dumb boy like him?

John stood up and walked over to him. He cupped a large hand on Brian’s cheek and swept a thumb over his skin. “You know you’re lovely, right? Just… remarkably beautiful.”

There’s been studies done on plant growth showing that talking nicely to your plants, encouraging them, helped them grow. Brian felt he understood those plants now with John breathing praises over him like that. He wanted to stretch out his leaves and absorb those words like sunlight. 

Maybe he could’ve said something like that, but instead he just said, “Oh boy.”

John crouched down, his lips hovering over Brian, a honeybee over a small garden flower .“Is this what you want?” he whispered.

“Uh huh.” He nodded.

“Then, show me,” John commanded, but didn’t move. Brian instinctively knew what John was waiting for—Brian to come to him.

So he did, and the wine that had tasted so awful in the glass, tasted like pure heaven on John Grey’s lips. 

. . .

Grey could not believe he was kissing this beautiful boy again. Could not believe he hauled him out of the chair, sat him on the table and nearly knocked one of his good plates onto the floor. 

He couldn’t believe how good this felt. By all accounts, it shouldn’t feel this great. Grey dated often, though sometimes it was hard with Willa, but he dated and he hooked up and sure things had ended badly with Percy—the goddamn cheater—but this, this with Brian, it was better than it had any right to be.

So good, in fact, that he found himself acting ridiculous. Romantic. Found himself sweeping the lithe, lanky boy into his arms and carrying him to the sofa. Found himself laying the boy out on it and just kissing him.

He didn’t even know how long they laid there, tangled up, just  _ kissing.  _ Though it was long enough and good enough that when he opened his eyes and looked down, he saw a tent in Brian’s stuffy black trousers. 

“You’re hard, baby.” Grey said, nudging his nose against Brian’s. Brian let out a groan. “What?”

“Call me that again.”

Grey smiled against his lips. “ _ Baby _ .” He kissed his way from Brian’s mouth to his earlobe, suckling it gentle. “Do you want me to take care of it?”

A shiver ran through Brian and wormed its way into Grey. “Um, how… how would you do that?” Brian asked.

“Well, I could use my hand,” he whispered. “Or I could use my mouth.”

Brian released a sharp yelp. “That’s… we’re not supposed to do that.”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to be doing any of what we’ve been doing for the last hour, but what we do is up to you, Brian. Whatever you want or don’t want.”

It surprised Grey when Brian settled in closer to him, like he found comfort and support in their nearness.

“I… I really like your hands.” Brian admitted quietly, tracing a finger over Grey’s thumb.

Mouth dry, Grey skimmed his hand under Brian’s untucked white shirt, touching the soft line of hair there, then he started to dip his fingers beneath the waist band.“I’m going to touch you then, now? Yes?”

“Uh, huh.” Brian shut his eyes, nodding.

With one hand, Grey undid Brian’s belt, then popped open his trouser button and zipped down the fly. He slipped his hand beneath the waistband of his white briefs, engulfing Brian’s prick with his hand.

Brian tossed his head back, cheeks turning a bright red. “Oh gosh.”

Grey bit at the name tag on Brian’s shirt, then grumbled. “You saying gosh should not be as sexy as it is.” He kept on with his touches, slowly pumping his hand up and down. Brian felt completely hot and completely hard and yet…

“Sorry, it’s kind of um, kind of small.” Brian whispered, a little sadly, as if he’d known what Grey was thinking. He hadn’t ever known how Grey felt about how he was thinking.

Grey landed another kiss on Brian’s sternum. “Can I see it?” 

Brian dug his teeth into his bottom lip and full-body shivered, but he nodded. Grey settled back on his feet in front of Brain on the sofa and tugged his trousers and pants down around his ankles. 

He looked up to see a pink, cut prick, maybe just half as long as Grey’s, sticking straight up, a little sparkle of wetness shimmering on the tip. At the sight, his hands and feet went numb.  _ God. _

“It’s lovely,” Grey said, almost reverently. “It’s a lovely… little cock.” He reached up to wrap his hand around it and it disappeared. That sight was enough to make him lightheaded. “I like it. I like that it fits so easily into my hand.”

“ _ John _ .” 

How he wanted this! To make Brian feel  _ this  _ good. To feel the things he’d been holding out on for so long. To know what his body could do under the touch of someone who wanted to know him and all his beautiful and ugly pieces. 

“Take your shirt off,’ Grey said, breathlessly. “Let me see more of you.”

Brian’s shaking hands worked open his buttons, revealing planes of pale, freckled skin. He shrugged out of his shirt revealing well sculpted shoulders and hard, ruddy nipples. Grey surged forward to take one of them in his mouth.

When he pulled away, he was mesmerized by the shine of his wet mouth that was left behind.

“You too,” Brian whined. “Not fair. If I don’t get to see you too.”

Grey grinned and let go of Brian just long enough to tug off his sweater and throw it aside.

Then, he was back to the important business of taking Brian apart with the touch of a strong, rough hand.

**. . .**

They laid shirtless together, skin to skin, atop the rug on the floor. Brian’s head lay on John’s chest and he absentmindedly played with the dark hair sprinkled over hard muscle. Brian had spent all over himself and it was cool and drying under the whipping current of the ceiling fan.

John laid a kiss against Brian’s forehead. “Do you think you’d like to be fucked some day?”

Nerves curled in Brian’s stomach. “Like? In my… butt?

“No,” John ruffled his hair. "In your nostril.”

Brian squinted, his lips pressing flat and flicked John’s nipple. It made him yelp, but then laugh. He was already memorizing the sound. “I don’t know. Does it hurt.”

“A little,” Grey said gently. “I don’t do it very often.”

“Why not?”

John tucked fingers under Brian’s chin, lifting his gaze so they were looking each other in the eye. “Because I prefer to be the one doing the fucking.”

Brian couldn’t help but imagine what John would look like doing that. The roll of his strong muscles as he thrust… the sounds he might make…

“And you’d want to… do  _ that _ … with  _ me _ ?” It was hard to imagine it. Someone as attractive and mature and experienced would want to waste his time on some guy who had no idea whatsoever what he was doing.

“I would.”

The fact that it was just laid out there like that made him nervous on a different level. It was one thing in theory, but another thing if he was offering it right  _ now.  _

“It seems a little scary,” Brian admitted. “How.. how big are you?”

“Bigger than you.” John kissed his cheek. “It’s average. Do you want to see it?”

More than anything. “Mm, hmm.”

John reached down to unbutton his jeans and unzip the fly. He shimmed his hips, pulling his… member out of boxer-briefs. 

He was growing hard now, right in front of Brian. The tip of it slowly rising from the sheath of his foreskin. He wasn’t kidding when he said he was bigger than Brian. 

“Oh…” Brian licked his lips, then reached out to touch it, but he hesitated before he did. “Can I?” he asked.

“Of course, always, please.” John said, like he couldn’t decide which one to use. It made Brian feel pretty good, actually. 

His fingers wrapped around it and it felt so warm and soft.  _ How can this be wrong?  _ It was also… he couldn’t imagine that… going  _ there.  _ How would it even be possible? “This would fit?” he asked, moving his hand up and down the way John had done for him. The way he did for himself when he was feeling particularly sinful. 

John laughed, then reached over to brush curls off Brian’s forehead. “I’m really average sized, but you’re doing a good job boosting my confidence.”

He felt his own member twitch in his pants, despite having finished not all that long ago. Still, when he looked at the size and thought of what that might feel like, not even just physically but emotionally, to know he’d done  _ that.  _ Given his body over to a man that way. He wasn’t sure, and if he did it, he wanted to be sure. He took a deep breath, and hoped John wouldn’t just get ticked off and kick him out. 

“I… I don’t think I’m ready,” Brian admitted. “I’m sorry.”

John cupped his cheek and gave him a soft look. “No. Don’t be sorry. Don’t ever be sorry. Thank you for telling me. I’m _ proud  _ of you for telling me.”

_ I’m proud of you.  _ Those words made warmth bloom between his ribs. “You’re not disappointed?”

“No…” John kissed him on the temple. “But I am going to have to excuse myself to the loo.” He started to move to stand and Brian just couldn’t let him go. He put a hand on the older man’s thigh.

“Or… I could keep touching you? I’m  _ definitely _ ready for that.”

. . .

After that evening, Grey didn’t see Brian for two weeks. The second Sunday without him he’d almost considered heading down to their local church, but that was an insane idea he wasn’t going to follow through with. Besides, he had Willa with him on the weekends and there was no way he was taking her with him there.

It was just a boring, average Wednesday afternoon, and Grey was typing away on his computer trying to meet his deadline when he heard a knock at the door. Every day since, he’d thrilled at the sound, just to be disappointed by an Amazon package or an offer to clean out his gutters.

Today, having practically given up on the prospect of ever seeing Brian again, Grey only felt groggy as he dragged himself out of his desk chair and to the front door. What he saw on his front step shocked him.

It was Brian, but instead of the white shirt and black trousers he normally wore, he was in dark wash jeans and a teal hoodie with frayed cuffs. A duffle bag was slung over his shoulder. He looked rumpled, tired and a little scared.

“Brian? Are you alright?”

He shook his head. “Can I come in?”

“Of course.”

Silence felt heavy over them as Grey shut the door behind them.

“I think I did something really stupid,” Brian muttered, hands shoved into his hoodie. He wasn’t looking up at Grey. 

“What happened?”

Brian’s chest rose and fell heavily. “I ran away. It got into an argument with Andrew that led to an argument with an Elder that led to me, shouting that I was gay and then storming out and taking my things and… oh, I’m going to be in so much trouble.” 

“Oh, kid. I’m sorry.” His eyes went to the duffle bag.

“Don’t worry. I know I can’t stay here. I just panicked. I’m going to call my mom, and if that goes bad, I’ll call Phaedra and her dad will… I don’t know. I think he’ll help.”

Grey stepped forward, his heart clenching with regret. He squeezed Brian’s upper arm, and their eyes met. “You can stay the night. We’ll figure things out.”

“I can’t do that. I’m not going to impose.”

“Look, Brian,” Grey said. “One time or another most of us have been here and the lucky ones found people who understood, who’d been there to help them. I had people like that and you’ve got your friend Phaedra and you’ve got me.”

Those gorgeous lips moved into a warm smile, then Brian bolted forward and crushed him in a hug. He backed up then and cleared his throat. 

“Sorry.”

Grey smiled, shook his head and reeled the kid back into his arms.

Somewhere between that moment of holding Brian in his arms and now, they’d ended up here. Naked, the both of them, on Grey’s rumpled up bed sheets. Touching and kissing and discovering new ways to make the other feel good.

Grey kissed Brian’s left knee, then skimmed his hand down soft skin to his thigh. “Spread your legs for me, love.”

He felt Brian shiver against him.

“You’re going to look at me there?” he said, barely audible.

“Yes. Please,” Grey replied gently. “I really want to see you.” He would respect Brian’s decision and understand it, if he didn’t want to do this, but Grey hoped that he would. It was what he wanted most—just to see this most intimate part of Brian.

“I want to, but…” Brian said. “I mean, I want to, like a lot, but I'm having trouble moving my legs. I'm so nervous. Could you?”

Grey kissed his other knee, then tucked his hands between Brian’s legs, looking up, to see him burying his face in a pillow, and pushed his legs apart, then his cheeks.

He was, as Grey had imagined , soft, small and pink.

“Baby.” Grey breathed the word, then just sat back, not touching him there, just looking, admiring. It wasn’t that body that was making him feel fiery from the tips of his hair down to the soles of his feet. It was the openness, the vulnerability, the trust. Brian was like a precious, fragile teacup and he solemnly swore to himself that he would not leave behind even the smallest chip.

“This is so weird.” Brian’s words were muffled through the feathery pillow. “No one has ever.”

“Well,” Grey sucked his pointer finger into his mouth, then ran over that pretty pink spot. “I do say that’s a tragedy for them.” He leaned forward to kiss the soft mound of his arse. He kissed again, wetly, this time, then moved his mouth down, down, until it replaced his finger. 

Maybe it was weird that he liked doing this, but he did—and Brian tasted like sweet body wash—strawberries maybe. He would ask, but that was even more strange.

“John,” Brian whimpered.

“Hm…” Grey mumbled, preoccupied with his current activity, in which he’d now enlisted a slowly rotating finger.

“What are you doing?”

He paused momentarily. “Well, Brian, I’m going to eat you out, okay?”

“Oh, um, yeah. Okay,” He replied, shifting his legs a little wider, which was just… this twink missionary was going to be the absolute death of him.

Grey drew in a breath, pulled him apart, just little, so he was open for him, and tucked in.

He had no way of knowing how long he was doing this, not with how fully he’d committed himself to enjoy the raw miracle of the moment. 

“John, I think… “ came Brian’s voice, like a tether to reality. “No, I  _ know _ . I want you inside me.”

. . . 

This had been one of the worst and best days of Brian Randall’s life. It was funny how quickly it all happened, like Grey had been the small tear that revealed the true weakness of the fabric and, in moments, years had all unraveled into string in his hands. 

He was young and he was impulsive and he often said things he meant but that he knew he shouldn’t say. Maybe Brian didn’t care what people thought about him, but the things Andrew was saying… Those things were about Phaedra and about John Grey. Just… no. He couldn’t look at himself in the mirror if he were to stand by and let those things be said.

He didn’t feel guilty for it. Not any of it, even if he no longer had a picture of the future in his mind.

Thankfully, at this moment, he wasn’t being asked to think about the future. He was just being asked to be here, to feel, to touch another man and allow that man to touch him.

John was over him, all hard muscles and dark hair, that desperate look of want burning deep in his eyes and he was… pushing  _ in. _

Brian gripped the sheets as he felt the strange, new stretch. Unstrung words tumbled from his lips. “John, I… fu… oh,  _ Gosh _ .”

John stilled and kissed his ear, whispering, “Baby, I know it’s tight, but you can do it.” He sank in a little more and Brian saw stars “Breathe for me. You’re doing so good.”

“Am I?” Brian asked with a broken laugh, feeling like every nerve in his body had all moved to one, small spot.

“Yes.”  _ A little deeper.  _ “So good.”

Brian trembled beneath John, holding his breath. John smelled so good, felt so warm, hovering over him, breeching him. Still, it was such a foreign feeling, a vulnerable, deep ache.

“It hurts a little,” he barely managed.

“I know.” John dropped a feather-light kiss to his forehead. “I’ll stop, if that’s what you want, but I think you can do it.”

He worried his lip, but didn’t ask John to stop because he didn’t want him to stop. He wanted this, desperately. He spread his legs a little wider and steadied himself. John sank another inch, reaching somewhere impossible and expected inside him. A pleasure as intense as pain had ever been. Brian yelped.

“Okay, “ John sounded worried. “I’m going to pull out now. We can do something else. It’s okay.”

“No, no.” Brian grabbed at the man’s bare back. “Please, please don’t. I need this. I need you.”

“You’re certain?” John asked.

“ _ Please.” _

John kissed his mouth, licking against his tongue, then pulled away, just to push in deeper and deeper until there was nowhere else to go. John filled Brian in an overwhelming way he’d never imagined possible. 

“That’s it, baby,” John said. “There you go. You were such a brave boy for me. I knew you could do it.”

Brian smiled because how could he not after a sentiment like that. 

John kissed him again. His mouth. His cheek. His throat. Brian knew it would leave behind a bruise, but he didn’t care. He wanted to be marked for good, wished John had a magical mouth and the shape of his lips on his skin would never fade away ever.

“I’d like to fuck you now,” John said. 

“You’re not already doing that?” Brian replied, a little hysterically.

“Not exactly.” John slowly pulled back, then sank back in, making Brian gasp. He did it again. “Now that’s me fucking you. Do you think you can take that?”

“Hell yes.”

John laughed. “It’s so sexy when you curse. Do it again. Don’t hold back while I do this. Please.”

And Brian didn’t hold back. As he was taken over and over and over again, he let go every curse he’d heard over the years and refused to say.  _ Fuck. Damn. Hell. Damn it all to Hell. Shit. Fucking shit. Fuck me. Fuck me. Oh my God. Oh my  _ God. 

He came hard. All over his chest, a hand never touching his cock. Then, John finished too. Even through the condom, Brian could feel the pulse of John’s release deep inside him.

He hated the feeling of John pulling out of him. Physically it was strange, but emotionally, it  _ hurt.  _ Losing that connection, that sense of oneness with another and not just any other, but with another who he felt a sort of primal connection to. He’d looked at him, he thought, that first day on the steps and known without knowing. Like he’d been following an invisible string his whole life and finally, unexpectedly, come to its end.

He thought that if he could build the perfect life, the kind spelled out to him all his life growing up, he wouldn’t do it. He would choose this with  _ this  _ man. Easily, happily, gratefully.

Maybe he was young and stupid. But he would be young and stupid and himself here in John Grey’s arms.

  
  



End file.
